He Makes Her Happy
by OriginalProxy
Summary: A rather generic J/MP fiction. A fluffy, cuddly fic with a bit of redemption. Actually, quite a bit of redemption, because those you love should make you happy.


DISCLAIMER: Do I look like a major television network? No? Then I don't own The Pretender, Jarod or any of the other characters. I'm borrowing them for a bit, and liberally altering some things. For instance: Zoe, assume she and Jarod broke up or she's not in remission anymore and died; Mr. Parker didn't die when he jumped into the ocean, he somehow came back and regained control over the Center and Miss Parker has been kept in the dark about the circumstances of both of those events. RENT and the things that look sort of like it all belong to Jonathan Larson, who I worship as a god and genius. Gaia is not mine either, she is from the Fearless book series. I had to add her in because the last time I went to Washington Square Park, the only thing I could think of was Gaia and the chess tables. "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" is not my song.  
  
DISCLAIMER SUMMARIZED: There's lots of stuff in this that I don't own, but unless you really are looking to sue me for intellectual theft, you just need to know that this story is a Pretender fanfic.  
  
Chapter One: You're Getting Awfully Excited About A Couple Of Kisses  
  
The almost unnaturally bright sun shone steadily on the light, coarse ground. It was not ideal territory and he had stayed for far too long. They were here. Not only were they here but they weren't far behind him, he wasn't even sure they were behind him, and he had nowhere to run and no cities to hide in. If he could get a mile or so away, he'd have a decent chance of hiding under some rock and waiting until they assumed he'd pulled an ingenious trick. Maybe he'd get lucky. After all, he rarely didn't have a brilliant getaway planned, but he hadn't expected to be followed here. The sweepers were never even supposed to know he'd stopped in this Arizona inlet.  
  
Jarod leapt from the plateau then rose, ready to run, and he noticed that it was not his lucky day. Twenty paces away, Miss Parker had a gun leveled at his head. There were two paths over the hills behind her, but he had no way of making it past her to them, and no way of going back up the cliff directly behind him. He admonished himself silently with the old adage, remembering to ever after look before he leapt.  
  
"I guess congratulations are in order," Jarod said softly, knowing it would be a few short minutes before the sweepers found them, and all she had to do was stand there with a gun pointed at him. He had no doubts that she would shoot. "You've caught me at last."  
  
Surprisingly, there was no witty remark, no name calling, nothing. Her eyes were colder and more shielded than he had ever seen them. She did not even seem to understand that he had spoken. Slowly, she moved toward him, which was not exactly wise in her position. He had little to lose, and his best chance would be to take the gun from her while she was alone, the closer she came the more that would be an option.  
  
"Miss Parker," he asked, in the same soft tone. Her expression was still completely unreadable, but her gun was extended to the point where he could almost flip around one of his raised hands and try to take it from her. Odds were she'd get a shot off before he succeeded, but the only thing that really prevented him from trying it was a morbid curiosity as to why she was coming so close.  
  
Then, the gun sprang upward, suddenly parallel to her face, and he could do nothing but stare at her, dumbfounded, as the distance between them became entirely negligible and her lips grazed his. That was all. She said only one word to him, "Run." Her expression was no more readable as he backed away without taking his searching eyes from her face, but her eyes seemed somewhat warmer.  
  
A few minutes later, he could hear her snapping at sweepers and leading them down the path he had not chosen.  
  
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It was only midnight when her phone rang. How sweet, he was being considerate for once. "What," she snapped into the receiver, not quite as grumpily as she would have had it been three hours later. She had not been asleep very long.  
  
"I must admit that was a close call for me yesterday. Congratulations are in order," he said in his usual laughing manner. She could only hope that he remembered her phone was probably bugged and that he would be a little grateful for her aid. Not that she would necessarily blame him for wanting to get her into trouble after all of the grief she'd given him over the years.  
  
"Congratulations would be due if I'd hauled your sorry ass back to the Center where you belong, Lab Rat," she snapped, her manner as inscrutable as ever.  
  
"Yes, well, you caught me completely off guard, that has to count for something. I still don't know how I managed to get away," he said, hinting at curiosity.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, rub it in," she sighed, faking a yawn.  
  
"Of course Miss Parker, I have a right to. You sit in your home in perfect safety, with beautiful grounds to walk through at any time of the night, and I have to sprint through the desert under a burning sun with armed men chasing me. I get to be a little smart-alecky on occasion," he said, unable to keep a laugh out of his voice. She got the hint.  
  
"I doubt you're in the desert now, Jarod, where are you?"  
  
There was a smile in his voice when he answered, "As far away from Delaware and you as I can possibly get." So he was waiting for her outside, then. He hung up the phone, and she copied, yawning as she rose from the cuddly warmth of her comforters. She shook herself and went to the door, putting on a leather jacket as she exited, deciding a walk through the autumn leaves would not hurt her.  
  
She strode slowly through the towering oak trees, it was a beautiful night. If the moon was not yet full, it was close to being so and its silver light sparkled strangely through the naked trees. The leaves crunched softly under her bare feet, but when she stopped momentarily to admire the stars, the crunching did not stop.  
  
"Liar," she called softly into the night.  
  
"I prefer to call it pretending," replied the half joking voice behind her. She did not turn to face him; she knew that voice too well to doubt its owner.  
  
"Why are you here," she asked, dreading and knowing the answer. "I could shoot you, or bring you back to the Center."  
  
"That is, of course, why I am here. Why didn't you shoot me or bring be back to the Center when you had the chance?" He didn't mention the kiss. She glumly added that he hadn't responded to it either.  
  
"I should think that was obvious," she said softly, still not facing him. Under the moonlight she was so different from her Ice Bitch office persona. Jarod was, for once, at a loss for what to say.  
  
"It isn't," he replied, stuttering slightly. "Why did you let me go?"  
  
"And they call you a genius," she sneered, finally turning to face him, but there was little malice in her eyes. "I told you after the Island, the game is you run, I chase. Catching you isn't supposed to be a part of it anymore," she explained, the cold look that had invaded her face for a moment dissipated, leaving a soft, dreamlike look.  
  
"Why not," Jarod asked, walking to her tentatively, his heart outracing that of a hummingbird.  
  
She looked up at him, noticing for the first time that he was now no more than a foot away from her. Her hand somehow found its way to his cheek, and her mouth decided to brush up against his rather than answer the question. She held that position for only a second before she pulled back to stare into his deep chocolate eyes. This time, he reacted.  
  
Jarod's arms wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her in closer as his lips captured hers gently. Surprised that he'd responded so positively, her mouth opened slightly in pleasure, allowing his tongue narrow access that broadened the second she realized he desired access. Her arms found their way around his neck and one hand seized a fistful of his short hair, tangling her fingers in the black mass. For a moment there was nothing except the heat between them, then Jarod pulled back suddenly, his eyes wide and searching her face desperately.  
  
"I love you," he said, somewhere between softly and frantically. His fears were pacified when her countenance was suddenly lit not only by the silver moonlight, but by an expression of pure joy.  
  
"I love you, too," she whispered, bringing his head down to her once more. He melted into the kiss and started a fire that she had never felt before, even with Thomas. His hands rubbed slow circles under her jacket as they drifted up her back, causing her to moan soft pleasure against his lips.  
  
Then her eyes snapped open, and she backed away. He was plainly confused, but he released her wordlessly and waited for an explanation. The one he got, however, was a weak one.  
  
"I didn't expect you to feel the same way," she said softly, not looking at him.  
  
"I do, I always have," he replied simply, sending her thoughts to the Valentine's days and soft rabbits of ages past. She smiled tenderly at the memories, then she hardened into the façade he'd grown accustomed to dealing with.  
  
"I'd love to say I'm glad," she said shortly, "but this may be the stupidest....."  
  
Jarod cut her short, "Come with me, leave the Center," he suggested. Her head snapped up to look at him, her face an ice sculpture and her eyes filled with an old pain.  
  
"Too risky," she snapped. "And as long as I'm Daddy's little Angel at the Center, we can't get attached," she stated, equally coldly. "There would be an omnipresent danger that I'd sell you out."  
  
Jarod had a sour look on his face, "Why stay?"  
  
"They are my family," she sneered contemptuously, "and they will kill to keep me at home."  
  
"They haven't managed to catch me yet," Jarod retorted angrily.  
  
"I won't risk it," she shouted, turning away from him and walking back toward her house. She was stopped by a gentle hand on her shoulder. She longed to take that hand in both of hers and kiss its palm gently. Instead, she spun around angrily to face its owner.  
  
"If you won't leave yet," he suggested softly, his expression so gentle her heart melted, "then give me a chance to make you want to leave."  
  
"No," she answered, not nearly as coldly as she would have liked. "I can't let you trust me," she explained factually, and he understood exactly what she meant.  
  
"I can't help it," he said softly, "I already do."  
  
"Then I have to save you from myself," she turned and she walked away from him. This time, he did not stop her. It was difficult for him, watching her walk away. He was always running from her, but walking away was not the same thing. When she walked with her perfectly measured pace, there was a tacit agreement that she was leaving and there was nothing either could do. When he ran, she had a chance to stop him.  
  
Chapter 2: A Rented Christmas In New York City  
  
Jarod opened the door to reveal a very pretty girl with dark curls and deep brown eyes. "Got a light," she asked before looking up. When she did look up, she immediately apologized. "Oh, sorry, what happened to Tony?"  
  
"Come on in," Jarod answered amicably, "I'll find some matches. Tony moved out to go live with a girlfriend or something. The landlord didn't tell me much." He took the matches from the stove and turned to face the girl, who was shivering. "Are you feeling all right," he asked with a hint of concern. "You're shivering."  
  
"It's nothing, the heat in my apartment went all wonky. That's why I need fire; I've set up a bit of a makeshift stove." She flashed an award winning smile.  
  
"Do you have a decent flu? If you don't, this whole place could burn down." Jared noted that her slight shaking was not helped by the heat of the apartment, and beads of sweat dotted her forehead.  
  
"Scrounged some pretty decent ducts from the trash a few weeks ago and set them up. It should be good. I'm 'Becca Wells, by the way." She winked at him, accepting the book of matches with an unsteady hand.  
  
"Jarod Collins," he said, smiling broadly.  
  
"I'm sure I'll see you around," the girl said, walking out of the room.  
  
A few minutes later, there came another nock at the door. "Yes," Jarod asked, opening the door to find Becca standing there, extending his matches.  
  
"Thanks," she said cheerfully. "I got a fire lit right away, so I didn't need all of them."  
  
"Oh, returning them wasn't really necessary, but thank you."  
  
"I always feel bad about borrowing matches, I can grab as many as I like at work," Becca stated, turning to leave.  
  
"Where do you work," Jarod asked, curiously. The girl blushes slightly as she turned her face back to him.  
  
"The Cat Scratch," she stated before turning back around and walking away. Jarod wasn't a complete idiot, and he realized that asking further questions in that vein would yield only hostile answers.  
  
"Wait, would you like me to inspect your flu? I know a thing or two about construction and fire safety," he offered in a friendly manner. She turned around one final time, inspecting him closely.  
  
"You seem nice enough," she said not unkindly, still shivering slightly. "But you should know that a girl around here doesn't let strange men into her apartment."  
  
"Do you live alone then," he tried, not wanting to give up on the conversation. She nodded uncertainly. "What about your family? You look like your sixteen."  
  
"I'm nineteen," she snapped, "And I can take care of myself." With that, she really did leave, and he shut the door gently behind her.  
  
It was a week or so before he saw Becca again. He wanted to help the obviously addicted girl, but she had not been in the apartment, and he was busy with his inner city school teacher pretend. He'd been trying to catch a pedophile, and it meant he had to spend long hours at the school because he'd only had a short while before the Christmas Break began.  
  
She was unlocking the front door just as he arrived, and he held it open for her. "Hi, I haven't seen you for a while," he said softly, startling her.  
  
"I've been around," she stated, not quite sure what to make of the statement.  
  
"Would you like some chicken," he offered. She was about to turn him down when he continued, "My freezer broke this morning, and I had a lot of meat in there, I packed it with snow, but I have to cook it up tonight. I don't have anywhere to keep the leftovers either, if someone doesn't help me eat them tonight, it will probably be a lost cause bringing them to school tomorrow."  
  
"Alright then," Becca accepted, painfully aware of the empty feeling in her stomach as they walked together up the stairs. "Let me stop at my apartment for a few minutes and I'll meet you in about half an hour."  
  
"Perfect," Jarod replied, offering his trademarked grin.  
  
True to her word, she showed up at his door approximately thirty-five minutes later. He offered her a rickety chair in front of a card table, and she sat while he "put the finishing touches" on dinner. There were only two chairs at the table, but she didn't feel uncomfortable.  
  
"You teach," she asked, looking around the room curiously. It wasn't very lived-in, but there was a stack of what looked like art-work on the raggedy sofa.  
  
"I teach," he said, entering the room with table settings that she leapt up to help with. She set the table while he returned to the kitchen to fetch the food. He unceremoniously plopped a chicken breast, several pieces of broccoli and a mountain of rice onto her plate, instructing her to take as much as she wanted of the salad and help herself to any seconds she wanted. "Second grade," he then added while she tried to look nonchalant about shoveling the food into her mouth.  
  
"This is really good," she stated, while he tucked in as well, not really speaking.  
  
"I like to cook," he said, smiling softly. "And it's always nice to have someone eat it. There's not a big sense of community around here."  
  
She laughed at him, "No, that's not one of the things this neighborhood is known for. Drugs, yes, crime, yes, community, no. Children? Not on your life."  
  
"It is really too bad, I would have liked to get to know more people, but everyone shies away, like it's silly to get to know your neighbors."  
  
"Where did you grow up," Becca asked, laughing humorlessly, "Maybury?"  
  
Jarod looked at her blankly for a few minutes. "No, I didn't have much of a 'community' growing up either," he answered amicably. "I'm just surprised that no one seems to reach out to each other around here. Even at school, not so much in my class but among the older children, there is a detachment from strangers."  
  
"Didn't your mom ever tell you not to talk to strangers," Becca joked. "We take that seriously around here." Her plate was totally empty, and she helped herself freely to the salad, eyeing the chicken as she did.  
  
"I hope you aren't planning on only eating one piece of chicken," Jarod stated firmly, changing the subject, "I don't like wasting food." He plopped another piece onto her plate, helping himself to seconds as well.  
  
"You're like an old mother hen," Becca laughed, savoring the meat.  
  
"Yes, well, little girls need people to fatten them up," he laughed back, causing her to look a little put out.  
  
"I'm not a little girl," she pouted.  
  
"You're less than two thirds my age," Jarod laughed at her face, "If you're not a little girl then I'm an old geezer."  
  
"Better you old then me a baby," Becca said, her pout breaking into a grin.  
  
"So, as an old mother hen geezer from Maybury, what does one do for fun around here? The school starts Christmas Break this weekend, and I think it will be fun to spend Christmas in New York City, but I've no idea how to go about it." Jarod looked a little embarrassed.  
  
"Well," Becca said flippantly, "you could go to a musical, although I'm sure you've been to ten million of them already, having been here for over a week. Tell you what, I'll take you down to Central Park, it's cheesy, but there are all sorts of Christmas decorations around the city. We can even check out Time Square."  
  
"That sounds like fun," Jarod said. In spite of the impersonal air, he really did love New York City. The mass of people all cramped together, each one of them incredibly different and doing something incredibly different reminded him what it meant to be truly free.  
  
"I'll get you at about eleven tomorrow, then," Becca said, smiling brightly. "I'll take my leave of you now, though," she said, noting the kitchen clock. "I have to be at work in an hour."  
  
"Do you have a working fridge," he asked, getting up. She nodded uncertainly. "Take these, then," he said, dumping the rest of the salad and the leftover chicken breast onto a plate and handing it to her. "If it stays here, it will be bad by tomorrow morning. I'll probably finish the rice off for a midnight snack, but I don't think I can handle a midnight snack this big," he said, smiling impishly. She thanked him, and he unlocked the door for her, letting her out.  
  
At exactly eleven o'clock in the morning on the Saturday three days before Christmas, Becca rapped politely on Jarod's door.  
  
"Good morning," he said, opening it. "Why don't you come in for a minute? I have something I need to finish on the fire escape." He then sprang away and hopped through his open window. Curiously, she peaked out at him, and saw him hand feeding a dove.  
  
When the bird finally flew away, he came back inside and closed the window shivering. "The animals here are afraid of nothing," he said, grinning at her.  
  
"Usually they won't eat directly out of your hand," Becca said surprised. "I also don't believe that it waited for you while you got the door."  
  
"I've been leaving food out for it all week," Jarod replied with a gotcha grin, "and it started taking it from my hand just two days ago. I left a pile of seed when I went to get the door. It didn't fly away because it was still eating!"  
  
"So even if you can't have a human community, Dr. Doolittle?" Becca laughed at his confused expression. "I take it you never saw that musical? It's a bad one, anyway. Dr. Doolittle is a guy who can talk to animals."  
  
Brushing off yet another cultural reference Jarod didn't get due to his time at the Centre, he offered his arm to Becca. She took it mockingly, and they left, with Becca singing "Walk With The Animals" and dancing slightly down the stairs.  
  
Becca knew her way around the city. They rode the subway so deftly Jarod wondered if they were setting any navigation records, and eleven o'clock was apparently a good time to be traveling. She played the perky tour guide, much to his amusement, and showed off all of the "good" decorations and spots. Jarod bought them both hot dogs from a street vendor, even after Becca warned him about buying meat from a person on the street. Around one, they found the chess tables in Washington Square Park, and Jarod asked if she wanted to play a game. She explained that they played for money and told him to go play one of the regulars if he wanted to get the real "New York" experience. She was joking with him, but he just grinned and decided he would.  
  
"Would you like to play," a pretty, muscular blonde a little younger than Becca asked. Jarod could tell by the fake bubbling laugh that she was trying to hustle him, meaning she thought she was good.  
  
"Sure," Jarod said with a cocky smile, sitting down across from her. She was obviously a regular here, because he noted several of the people rolled their eyes at him in warning. "I'm Jarod," he said.  
  
"Gaia," she offered, setting up the pieces. "It's custom here to play for money, isn't it," she asked faking a vacant look.  
  
"I think so, do you have any idea how much," he asked, playing along.  
  
"Generally twenty dollars," a Hispanic boy behind Gaia offered with an amused look on his face.  
  
"Alright then," Jarod said, "twenty dollars it is, if that's okay with you, Gaia?"  
  
"I guess so," she said, trying to fake an uncertain look. She was really bad at faking an uncertain look.  
  
Jarod had first move, and she moved, still feigning innocence. Jarod joked along with her, but after a few minutes, she realized that he knew what he was doing just as well as she did. The mask slipped entirely, and she simply played wordlessly, a look of intense but calm concentration riddling her face. She was much better than Jarod had expected.  
  
After ten minutes or so, Jarod realized that the game would go on for some time, and he turned to tell Becca that, only to see that she'd already come to that conclusion and left to find something to amuse herself. He assumed she'd be back by the time he finished and turned his full attention back to the board. Gaia had moved her rook while his back was turned. How sneaky.  
  
A few minutes after Jarod's momentary distraction, Gaia had one of her own. A boy in a wheelchair approached them. "Busy, G," he asked.  
  
"A little, Ed, why?" She turned away from the board and Jarod moved his knight in retribution.  
  
"I have Krispy Kremes here," the boy said with an evil smile, "For when you finish your game. We didn't talk last night; I thought I could find you here."  
  
Gaia immediately snatched the box from him and took a doughnut. "Food of the gods," she said, almost forgetting about the game. "I'm sorry, I went out a little early, I noticed something."  
  
"Um, Gaia," Jarod asked, "I moved already."  
  
"Right," she said, dropping the doughnut back into the box and studying the board for her most appropriate move. Ed watched the game in silence.  
  
"This is better than when you play Sam," he said, letting loose a soft whistle as Jarod swiped her bishop.  
  
"Yeah," Gaia said humorlessly, "Jarod here is a regular genius." She then proceeded to leave her Queen wide open. Jarod, not being an idiot, moved to protect his king.  
  
"You're not so bad yourself," he said glibly. She smiled broadly at him and Ed laughed, having been the only party not to notice the ploy.  
  
Eventually, Becca returned, and chatted uncomfortably with Ed, who didn't really take to her either. In the end, Jarod won, but wouldn't accept Gaia's grudging payment.  
  
"Keep it," he said with a grin. "I should be paying you. That was the best game of chess I've had in five years." Gaia smiled at him suddenly.  
  
"What rank are you, and why did you drop out?" Jarod laughed, fully understanding her assumptions.  
  
"We all have our secrets," he said, unable to stop smiling.  
  
Gaia offered him one of the precious Krispy Kremes and he took it, suddenly comprehending that it was not a doughnut at all. "God, this is good! I thought they were just doughnuts!"  
  
"You'd never had a Krispy Kreme," Ed asked, shocked. Becca laughed easily at Jarod, and Gaia looked a little startled.  
  
"How could you survive," Gaia asked with a grin.  
  
"I guess you paid me after all," Jarod answered with a warm light in his eyes. "You did just save my life, after all."  
  
"Yeah, and you didn't even have to, ow!" Ed was interrupted by a sharp smack from Gaia. Jarod was curious, but everyone did have their secrets. He didn't pry.  
  
After they left Washington Square, Jarod offered to buy tickets for a musical. Becca looked a little uncomfortable about this.  
  
"Please," Jarod begged, "I've never seen a musical before."  
  
"Really," she asked, a little surprised. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised, he did live in her apartment before, and that didn't suggest having a lot of spending money. "I guess we have to go, then," she said uncertainly. "But," she said strongly, "I'm not letting you pay for my ticket."  
  
"Come on," he cajoled, knowing she couldn't afford the price of a ticket. "This can be your Christmas present." She looked very doubtful, but he managed to convince her, and asked her to select a musical to attend.  
  
"Well, do you want a traditional musical or something more modern?"  
  
"I have no idea," Jarod said, impressing on her the fact that he had really never seen a musical before, not just that he had never been on Broadway.  
  
"Rent, then," she decided. "It's the best. We won't have to worry about turning you off with a lot of Ballet if you discover that isn't your thing, Rent has a bit more modern music, and the theme is more realistic too. Plus, I haven't seen it in four years, but it was what convinced me to move more toward modern dance."  
  
"You dance," Jarod asked innocently.  
  
"Yeah, I really dance, not just at the club, although that is the only place I ever work anymore," she stated, her eyes suddenly dull.  
  
"Come on, then," Jarod returned lightly, "let's go get tickets!" The line was absurdly long, but they eventually got tickets for a seven o'clock showing of Rent. They wandered around for a few hours and grabbed dinner before they finally returned to the theater. They didn't have the best seats, but they weren't bad, they were in the back, but the center and no one really tall sat directly in front of them. Jarod was a little confused by the seemingly unelaborated stage set up, and he wondered if they'd experienced difficulties of some type. Becca laughed at him, and Mark Cohen came onstage.  
  
"We begin on Christmas Eve with me, Mark, and my roommate, Roger. We live in an industrial loft on the corner of 11th street and Avenue B, the top floor of what was once a music publishing factory. Old rock and roll posters hang on the walls. They have Roger's picture advertising gigs at CBGB's and the Pyramid Club. We have an illegal wood burning stove; its exhaust pipe crawls up to a skylight. All of our electrical appliances are plugged into one thick extension cord which snakes its way out a window. Outside a small tent city has sprung up in the lot next to our building. Inside we are freezing because we have no heat."  
  
In the audience, Jarod smiled, and nudged Becca, who had just remembered a major plot point uncomfortably. "Remind you of anyone," Jarod asked.  
  
Becca laughed, and they both turned their attention back to the play. Jarod felt Becca tense every so often during the moving musical, and he knew that she was comparing the stage to her life, but he was almost unable to pay attention to his friend. The thunderous music and spectacular but realistic music drew him completely into the story, causing it to become as real as any simulation he had ever preformed; only he was every character at the same time. When Collins' voice broke while he sang the reprise of "I'll Cover You", Becca noticed that Jarod was crying freely.  
  
After the show, Jarod wouldn't speak. All he would say was "Wow" for several minutes. Finally, he snapped out of it, and they walked around to look at the lights a bit before hopping a train back to their neighborhood.  
  
"So you liked it then," Becca asked while they threaded their way through the fairly crowded streets.  
  
"I loved it," Jarod replied. "I couldn't help but notice the many parallels to my current life. Luckily, the AIDS virus is not one of them, but the horrible apartment, you with your heroine addiction being pretty much Mimi's character, your makeshift fireplace, my desire to help," Jarod stopped speaking and turned around, noticing that Becca had stopped walking. He walked back to where she stood, looking dazed.  
  
"My what," she asked softly, starting to walk with him again.  
  
"Your makeshift fireplace, it was almost exactly like the one Mark and Roger had in the play. Although I wouldn't exactly call your exit a sky- light, it is just a high window." Jarod replied innocently. He was actually glad that the play had provided such a convenient way for him to broach the subject he'd been dying to help her with all day.  
  
"Before that," she demanded with more strength.  
  
"Oh, your heroine addiction? You exhibited pretty obvious withdrawal symptoms the first night we met; it wasn't difficult to figure out. I don't want to preach, but you should really take a lesson from the play and check into rehab before you end up with overdosing or getting AIDS." Jarod was still walking with perfect innocence, not looking at her.  
  
"You think it's that easy," Becca stuttered. "I can't afford rehab. If I went to my parents for money, especially admitting that it was for a rehab clinic, they would force me to move back to Jersey and I'd never get a chance to dance again, even if it is only at the club. Besides, my parents can't really afford to send me to rehab anyway."  
  
"I don't know you or your family," Jarod said slowly, "but I like to think I know something about families in general. They help each other."  
  
"Whatever," Becca snapped. She didn't know why she'd let the conversation go on as long as it had in the first place. It was something she preferred not to think about.  
  
"So," Jarod said after a few minutes of charged silence, "what sort of dance did you study?"  
  
"I took ballet until I was thirteen, but I have bad feet for it, so I never really had much of a shot, so I switched around a lot after that. I took tap, jazz, modern, even belly dancing. I couldn't take enough classes. It cost my parents a lot, and they weren't at all happy about it. When I was fifteen, I had to get a job to pay for my own lessons, but it didn't matter to me. I went back to ballet then for a while, because that was the only thing my mum could convince my dad to pay for. When I was seventeen I decided that I could do well enough on my own, and came to the city to audition." Becca stopped her story there. For some reason, Jarod was far too easy to talk to, and she had no desire to talk about any of this.  
  
"It must have been difficult, leaving home. You must love dancing very much." Becca suddenly realized that he was easy to talk to because he was like a dog. He only asked general questions to keep the conversation going, and he passed no criticisms.  
  
"I do," she said quietly.  
  
/\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\/\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\// \\//\\/  
  
"He just left this morning," the middle aged superintendent stated groggily. "Wanna check out his apartment?"  
  
'That would be lovely," Miss Parker sneered. The man tossed her a key and told her the number before he waddled away. It was actually surprisingly easy, although the man had not been expecting them and had no pertinent information about Jarod. Parker wondered if he'd actually spoken more than ten words together to Jarod.  
  
The apartment was fairly sparse, there was a pawn sitting on a red book detailing information about the capture of a pedophile. There were no other joking letters or clues.  
  
"A pawn," Broots asked, looking at it confused.  
  
"Washington Square Park," Miss Parker said obviously. "Wonderboy's latest fan club members are probably some homeless hustlers at the park."  
  
"Shall we speak to them," Sydney asked.  
  
"Might as well," the woman sighed, exiting the apartment only to practically bump into a pretty nineteen year old girl. "Watch it," she snapped.  
  
"What were you doing in Jarod's apartment," the girl snapped back, equally annoyed.  
  
"Did you know Jarod," Sydney asked with some interest.  
  
"Who wants to know," she asked, suddenly noting how very out of place the trio was.  
  
"We're friends of Jarod's," Sydney replied, not at all put off. Years of dealing with Miss Parker made it easy for him to remain amicable. "We are looking for him, but we seem to have missed him."  
  
"Names," the girl asked tersely.  
  
"Look, you little," Miss Parker began, fully intending to keep up appearances and let loose all of her frustration with the rude girl.  
  
"Parker," Sydney warned, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Oh," the girl said, suddenly brightening. "You're Miss Parker, then? I have a present for you. Jarod didn't want to leave it in the apartment because break-ins are rather common. I'm Becca, come with me."  
  
The trio followed her, not entirely amazed by her mood swing and not remotely surprised that there was more waiting for them. Becca bounced into her apartment, which was even worse than Jarod's in terms of cleanliness and quality furniture. "Here you go," she said, grabbing an envelope from the countertop.  
  
"Four tickets to see Rent," Parker asked, opening it cautiously.  
  
Becca laughed. "He really did love it. He told me he'd been to New York before, but he'd never seen a Broadway musical, can you believe that? We went to see Rent a few days ago. All he would say for like ten minutes after it ended was 'wow'. It was hilarious; apparently he wants to share the experience with his friends."  
  
"You went with him," Broots inquired.  
  
"Yep, he said it was my Christmas Present, although I think getting Billy locked the fuck up yesterday was a better one." The girl laughed self consciously, not wanting to mention the outpatient rehab program he'd enrolled her in free of charge either.  
  
"Billy?"  
  
"He's the asshole brother of the owner of my club who 'makes life a little easier' for the girls who work there. Jarod got him with a whole kilo and he tied the jerk up and got a good confession of some of his more heinous misdeeds on tape for the cops." The girl let loose another nervous giggle.  
  
"Onisus strikes again," Parker growled.  
  
"He left us a chess piece in his room, we thought it might be an instruction to go to Washington Square, do you know what it means?" Broots held up the black pawn.  
  
Becca shrugged. "Before we got tickets to Rent, Jarod played an incredibly long game of chess against this blonde chick who had a friend in a wheelchair and a doughnut fetish. I don't know the first thing about chess, but they both seemed to really know what they were doing. He said he hadn't had that much fun since he played some chick named Sydney a bunch of years ago."  
  
"I hope he didn't refer to me as a woman," Sydney said, looking a little nervous.  
  
"Oh, sorry," Becca said, instantly looking mortified. "I just thought Sydney was a girl's name. I mean, uh," she stuttered, trying to explain the misunderstanding.  
  
"Quite alright," Sydney said smiling at her. The girl was an interesting mix of nerves and cheerfulness.  
  
"So other than a suggestion for Sid to try the chessboards and tickets for the Christmas Day showing of Rent, did he tell you anything," Miss Parker asked in a tone that was, for her standards, downright kind.  
  
Suddenly Becca looked uncomfortable. "Well, yes," she said slowly, "but I don't think I'm supposed to tell you." She shook her head and made up her mind. "I've got to go or I'll be late for work. It was nice meeting all of you." Miss Parker was instantly between Becca and the door.  
  
"Broots, Sid, why don't the two of you go check Jarod's apartment again while I have a little chat with Rebecca?" The two men left wordlessly, looking concerned for the wellbeing of the vivacious young girl.  
  
"I told you I had to go to work," the girl said, narrowing her eyes.  
  
"You concealed that so badly it makes me think you want to tell me, but don't want to betray his confidence. Don't worry about it. If you ever see him again, you can tell him I threatened you at gunpoint. He'll believe you. Of course, if you need some encouragement, I could really threaten you at gunpoint." Miss Parker's voice wasn't at all menacing while she said this. In fact, she continued to be almost kind.  
  
Becca smiled, then she looked a little embarrassed. Then, she began to speak. "I kind of threw myself at him," she said quickly in a voice almost too low for Miss Parker to hear. "After he told me he'd signed me up for rehab and had paid for a full month of outpatient. I'd never met anyone who would do something like that without wanting something in return, not even my father," she explained, trying to avoid the image she knew she was projecting. "He just had this 'flattered but no' attitude about the whole thing. I asked him why, because to be honest I had a bit of a crush on him by then anyway, and it wasn't a 'too young' thing, or even a 'your past' thing. His heart belonged to someone else. Believe me, Miss Parker, men don't usually reject nubile nineteen year old strippers who throw themselves at them, I don't care how honorable they are. Jarod is in love with you."  
  
Miss Parker didn't say a single word in reply; she merely spun on her heel and exited the apartment. She gathered her team and they returned to the hotel where Debbie, Broots' daughter was waiting for them. The technician had been disappointed about having to leave for work at noon on Christmas, but the lead was a good one, and not one obviously manufactured by Jarod, although he caught wind of them before they arrived. Miss Parker, in one of her rare moments of kindness, pitched Christmas in New York City to Debbie so well the girl had no qualms about abandoning her father-daughter day plan. Jarod had apparently been aware of the addition of Miss Broots to the party; the fourth ticket was obviously not for any of the sweepers.  
  
Sydney took Jarod's suggestion and played a few games of chess in the park, although he caught no sign of Jarod, he had an enjoyable time and didn't lose any money. Parker spent the rest of the time preceding the play with Debbie and Broots, having surprisingly more fun than she would have alone in her apartment for another year running, making her wonder if Jarod really hadn't intended to give them that lead.  
  
There was no subtext between the play and Parker's life. There were no hidden messages from Jarod or secret hints about her past. It was just an enjoyable Christmas activity for Parker to enjoy with three people she'd grown almost close to over the past five years. Maybe she wondered a little about the "I Should Tell You" portion of the program, but it wasn't overt. It was probably more in her mind than Jarod's. She knew him; he simply wanted to share an experience.  
  
Before they left, Parker bought herself the soundtrack and picked up some posters, bookmarks, and four t-shirts, although she puzzled over how to get Jarod's to him. She felt comfortable getting a t-shirt for him. It was a nice, impersonal Christmas present, just like the ticket had been. It read "No Day But Today", a philosophy she was sure Jarod approved of.  
  
Parker's coworkers protested that she'd already given them Christmas presents, but she said they needed to commemorate "Wonderboy sending us somewhere with no chance of us being killed by what we find there."  
  
The next evening, Parker was back in Blue Cove, sleeping peacefully as she always was when Jarod called.  
  
"What," she snapped into the receiver, knowing exactly who it was.  
  
"Did you have a Merry Christmas," Jarod asked innocently.  
  
"Yes," she sighed, sitting up carefully. "Rent was fun. I hope you had a good Christmas?"  
  
"I suppose so," Jarod laughed.  
  
"I got you a present," Parker said suddenly, "Why don't you give me an address I can send it to?"  
  
Jarod was silent for a minute. He didn't know what to make of the idea that she would get him a present or the fact that she didn't want to give it to him in person. This was impersonal. She was trying to distance herself from him in the only way she could be successful at it, not by shutting him out entirely, but by boxing him into a specified relationship with her. He was hurt.  
  
"I don't know, Parker," he said, trying to inject his normal good humor into his voice. "I am not really in a habit of telling my would-be captors where to find me."  
  
Parker faked a laugh, realizing he knew what she was doing. She didn't want to hurt him, but if nothing changed between them, in one of these late night conversations she was going to tell him she would give up everything to be with him. "Really? I thought you delighted in giving us hints to your location."  
  
"Hints, yes, but giving you an address and then sticking around long enough to wait for a package is a little daring, even for me," he retorted playfully.  
  
"Then I guess you don't get a present," Parker teased. "I'll just give it to Lyle."  
  
"Lyle," Jarod asked, startled. He couldn't believe the gift was that impersonal. What was it, a watch? Shaking his head slightly, he played his exclamation smoothly, "You'd actually give that psychopath a Christmas Present?"  
  
"He is my brother," Miss Parker returned with an amused smile. "And remember our lesson from Alex, there is a distinct difference between a psychopath and a sociopath."  
  
"I'm sorry, you're brother is definitely in the second category, whatever was I thinking," Jarod retorted sarcastically. Then he sighed, "Merry Christmas, Parker."  
  
"Merry Christmas," she replied before he hung up. She was a little surprised, he rarely waited for her to say something akin to goodbye before ending the call. She hoped he wasn't hurt too badly, but at the same time, she wanted him to be hurt. It was far too dangerous for him to love her.  
  
Chapter 3: It's Gonna Be A Happy New Year  
  
Miss Parker curled up under the blanket with her coffee perched delicately between her hands. No one from the center would believe that this gentle young woman watching the bad New Years Eve program on television was the same Miss Parker they all loved to fear. She looked downright cute. Her hair was pinned up carefully in a mass of curls and under the blanket, deep purple spaghetti straps were just barely visible across her bare shoulders.  
  
i "Why do you let him do this to you," Sydney asked, almost angrily.  
  
"He is my father," she snapped back, then stopped suddenly. "Maybe," she added with a whisper that almost broke her heart before she spun around and left the office wordlessly./i  
  
There was a soft rap at the door, pulling her from her daydream. She shook her head and rose, setting the mug down and allowing the blanket to fall from her shoulders, slowly revealing a dark violet evening gown. She lifted her gun from the coffee table and peaked through the window above her door. Just Jarod. She left the gun on the short end table next to the door and pulled it open slowly.  
  
"Wonderboy can knock," she joked halfheartedly.  
  
"Just thought you might not want to be alone on New Years," he said softly, and she noticed he was matching her in the formal wear department with a full blown tuxedo.  
  
"Where are you coming from," she attempted to sneer, "A pretend as a maitre 'de?"  
  
"Nah, I had to put in an appearance in Washington DC, sorry it took me so long to get here, but I was already in the car on the way there this afternoon when I called Sydney who angrily inform me that you were once again allowing your 'father' to control your holiday plans." Jarod sighed and looked over her shoulder into the house.  
  
"Why would Sydney tell you about my holiday plans," Miss Parker asked, looking concerned.  
  
"Don't worry," Jarod replied, noting the look on her face, "he just wanted to talk about something that was bothering him."  
  
"I do that, don't I," she asked softly.  
  
"Come on," Jarod said, flashing a sudden grin, "We're going dancing!"  
  
"What? It is ten minutes to midnight, by the time we get anywhere the party will be over," she asked a little sadly, wishing that when her father had cancelled, she'd looked immediately for other plans.  
  
"Oh, ye of little faith," Jarod scolded, pulling a remote out of his pocket and pressing a button before dropping it smoothly back to its hiding place. Soft violin music drifted across the moonlit grass from the well hidden speakers. "May I have this dance," he asked with a little bow.  
  
'Say no, say no, say no,' every fiber of her common sense instructed her that the stupidest thing she could possibly do would be to take his outstretched hand. "Certainly," she replied, allowing him to lead her to the grass. A small ounce of her instinct won her the ability to joke, "But I've left my shoes inside, so you'd better not step on my foot."  
  
"I wouldn't dream of it, my lady," he whispered softly in her ear as he pulled her into his arms to waltz. Parker put up a very valiant effort trying not to shiver at his touch. Perhaps she succeeded well enough that he attributed it to the icy January air. He was wishing Sydney had given him more notice so he could have set up something a little warmer for her. Luckily, the annual January Thaw was early this year as a result of hurricane force winds in the Gulf Stream recently, otherwise it would be far too cold to even attempt dancing out of doors.  
  
He lead her carefully around the lawn surprised that she followed his lead as well as she did. Miss Parker never liked anyone to think she followed a lead, yet she followed him so effortlessly he wondered if she was even awake and alive or some preprogrammed doll that would go wherever he took her. For a brief moment, he wished she really would go wherever he led her.  
  
Parker herself was hardly even aware that they were dancing. This wasn't how she remembered dancing at all, dancing involved thought and disciplined movement. What she was doing now was breathing deeply of Jarod's scent and being held by his arms, following wherever the slight movements of his hand implied. This was nothing more than simple, dreamy floating, and she knew this was far more dangerous than dancing. She also knew that she didn't want to do anything about it.  
  
A soft woman's baritone came across the grass when the music ended. "Ten..nine..eight.." the pair had already stopped dancing, and for the first time, Parker looked at Jarod, allowing her eyes to meet his soft brown soul. "Seven..six..five.." she was even more lost than when they began to dance. "Four..three..two..one..Happy New Year," the voice said with subtle inflections, as Jarod's lips met Parker's for a chaste, traditional New Year's Kiss. It took every fiber of her common sense not to grab him and kiss him senseless.  
  
"Happy New Year, Jarod," she whispered, looking down.  
  
"Happy New Year," he replied, taking her back into his arms as Ella Fitzgerald's voice danced across the green toward them.  
  
"Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" reminded Miss Parker very much of herself. Jarod had probably planned it that way. The brandy references an unwelcome reminder of her favorite problem solving methodology, and of course, her feelings for him. Yes, Jarod made her a child, with him she was free to be the person she was only allowed to be as a child. He had her heart, but he wasn't the cold one. She started to sing along, softly into his ear.  
  
"He can laugh, but I love it, although the laugh's on me. I'll sing to him, each spring to him, and long for the day when I'll cling to him," her voice was so soft in his ear that he wasn't positive it was there at all. His hold on her tightened almost imperceptibly.  
  
"He's a fool and don't I know it? But a fool can have his charms. I'm in love and don't I show it, like a babe in arms." She loved him. He knew she loved him, she'd told him so before, but she didn't show it, and he wished there was a way to convince her to be that open.  
  
"I've sinned a lot, I'm mean a lot," these words were directly from Parker's heart. She was sorry. She hoped he knew she was saying she was sorry.  
  
"I'll sing to him, each spring to him, and worship the trousers that cling to him," that was too much for Jarod. His mind spun away from her while his arms grasped her even closer to him.  
  
"Vexed again, perplexed again, thank God I can be oversexed again," there was that word again, Jarod thought. She was singing to him, in his ear, and this was more torture than he could take. Every inch of his soul prayed that she would not change her mind again and walk away. Although he knew her better than anyone, on some level, or maybe just in this case, he couldn't pretend scenarios as her. He had no idea what she would do, and that terrified him.  
  
"Life was so hard to bear, now my heart's antiseptic since you moved out of there. Romance, finis, your chance, finis, those ants that invaded my pants, finis. Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered no more." Parker held the last note a little longer than Ella Fitzgerald on the speakers did, she let it fade softly into his ear, not knowing what she hoped for, only knowing that she liked the song. There was meaning behind her words, but probably less than Jarod's genius brain was assigning them. She hoped he wasn't going batty, although part of her wanted him to spend every second crazy about her. She shivered involuntarily in the wind that was picking up.  
  
"Are you too cold," Jarod asked, noticing the shiver immediately.  
  
"A little, want to go inside for a drink," she offered honestly.  
  
"Sure," he said. She was shocked. There was not going to be a lecture about alcohol and her ulcer? She decided to wait before breaking out the confetti, it was probably coming.  
  
She led him into the warm house and took his suit jacket. "What are you having," she asked. "I don't think I have any traditional champagne, but I have a few decent wines, and plenty of the good stuff."  
  
Jarod cocked an eyebrow at her, but didn't start a lecture. "Wine would be fine, Parker." It was New Years, he reminded himself. There was apparently a New Years tradition of getting smashed, and he knew she hadn't been drinking yet tonight. One wouldn't hurt her, but if one turned to several, he'd bring it up.  
  
"Great," she flashed him a grin, "Its not alcoholism if I'm not the only one drinking!" He laughed with her, a real comfortable laugh, and sat down while she poured two glasses of a dark red wine. If he decided to go into pretender mode, he could have been an oenologist. He would have sniffed it, swirled it, aerated it and pronounced the quality and bouquet. Instead, he took a healthy sip and decided he quite liked it. A comfortable silence blanketed the pair, but soon they were both thinking about the many taboo subjects between them.  
  
"So," Jarod said, a playful smile gracing his lips, "I thought if I came to see you I could get my Christmas present. Unless, of course, you decided to give it to Lyle instead?"  
  
Miss Parker giggled, "You would have an ulterior motive for visiting me," she teased. For a second she seemed uncomfortable; the look in his eyes suggested something else they both knew he wanted from her. "I'll go get it," she said, her smile only slightly faded from the realization.  
  
Jarod only needed to nurse his drink for a few short minutes before she came back in with a neatly wrapped box. "Somehow you never struck me as a 'teddy bears holding presents' sort of girl," he stated smiling as he slid the green ribbon off the box. He used his finger to peel the tape away without damaging the paper.  
  
"It was all I had lying around," she said, returning the smile while she waited patiently for him to open it. She wanted to believe that she didn't care what he thought of the gift, but inside she was squirming wishing she'd gotten him something more thoughtful, the sort of gift he always got her.  
  
Jarod let out a laugh when he saw the T-shirt, CD, posters and other assorted Rent paraphernalia nestled cozily inside the white tissue paper. "I love it," he said, leaning over to give her a thank-you peck on the cheek. "Thank you."  
  
She froze for the second that his lips touched her skin, then she smiled, the warmth returning to her eyes. "You're welcome, Jarod."  
  
"We have a few hours left before you would have returned from that party," he reminded her brightly, "What would you like to do with them?"  
  
"Anything your little heart desires," she returned just as cheerfully. "I have music, I have wine, I have board games and I have company; I'm game for anything."  
  
"Scrabble," Jarod offered with a twinkle in his eye, remembering the only board game other than chess that he'd played at the Centre. He'd defeated Miss Parker rather spectacularly.  
  
"Hey, don't underestimate me, I've learned a lot of new words since I was ten years old, and I'd like a rematch!" He laughed outright at her feigned indignation.  
  
"A rematch it is," he stated, moving into the living room with the pair of glasses while she searched a closet for the desired game. Upon finding it, she knelt on the floor to set the game up on the coffee table next to the abandoned mug.  
  
An hour later, a rather heated argument was breaking out. "Herring Bone is two words, Genius-boy!"  
  
"No, it is a 'v' shaped pattern!" Parker suddenly realized that Jarod was correct, but she was unwilling to abandon the argument.  
  
"So herpes zoster is two words, but herring bone, which is obviously two words, is one?" She sneered at him, and he rolled his eyes.  
  
"Look, do you want to go find your copy of the Oxford? That was over half an hour ago, you knew I was right then, so let it go!"  
  
"Whatever," she said, using all seven letters and an existing 'on' to toss out heptathlon.  
  
"Very nice," he complimented in an attempt to assuage her. "Double word score, too," he added, earning him a very unladylike viewing of her tongue. He then added an 'iferous' to an existing 'odor'.  
  
"Very nice," she mimicked. "Double letter score, too," she added, "too bad it's on the letter 's'." He stuck his tongue out at her. He was still winning, although not by much.  
  
"Put it back in your mouth or I'll bite it off," she snapped good- naturedly.  
  
"Is that a promise," he asked, dropping his voice several octaves and noting with a smirk a tremble that ran through his opponent. She couldn't think of any reply. She barely managed to put 'xylem' on the board without a change in her expression or demeanor.  
  
'I should kick him out right now,' Miss Parker thought when she was coherent enough to do so. 'I'll just say I'm tired. I'm exhausted, and he should go home now, before it gets late, before he drinks too much for me to let him leave. Before I drink too much to want to let him leave. This was a bad idea, a bad idea from the very beginning.'  
  
"Parker," his soft voice interrupted her thoughts gently, "It is your move." Yes, it was her move. She didn't look down to the board where he'd used her 'x' for 'xerox'. She looked up, into his eyes, struggling to remain on the surface and not drown in the deep brown pools.  
  
"I think I'm done," she said, her voice little more than a whisper. "I'm exhausted, I think I'm ready to be out for the count."  
  
"Look, Parker, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," his pleading puddles opened themselves to her desperately. "I won't let it happen again, you don't need to throw in the towel just yet. I'm only topping you by five points as of my last word. You wouldn't call off the rematch just when you had a chance of beating me, would you?"  
  
"You haven't beaten me," she stated slowly. "Xerox is a registered trademark, a proper noun, you can't use it."  
  
He flashed a cocky grin, "Recently it's fallen into usage as a verb as well, so much so that it's been added to the dictionary as such."  
  
"Fine," she growled, looking back to her pieces for a word. "I have way too many vowels, though," she whined, looking up at him with pleading little- girl eyes.  
  
"Tough," he smirked, folding his arms across his chest.  
  
"And there's next to no room on the board," she continued pouting.  
  
"You'll just have to deal," he stated, wondering where she was going with this.  
  
She sighed dramatically. "I guess I will." There were no letters left to draw from. Jarod had three and Parker had seven. Using the 'v' from a vapid along the side of the board, she spelled out vanadium.  
  
"Minx," he scowled, turning a logy into biology with his remaining letters and totaling the points, although they both already knew she'd defeated him.  
  
Her smile was far too large. "Well, mister all mighty mathematician, do you wish I'd kicked you out yet?" He sighed and looked to the ceiling as though praying for divine intervention to save him from the gloating.  
  
"No, Miss Parker, congratulations on my towering defeat," he sighed with a half smile.  
  
"Hey, no fair being like that," she pouted cutely. "I never get to win anything with you, I finally beat you- at Scrabble of all things- and you're going to be a sore loser?"  
  
"Nope," he said, his eyes suddenly sparkling and changing the half smile to a small grin. "I'm going to be a good loser and give you a prize."  
  
"Oh," she feigned a squeal, "A prize?! What is it?"  
  
A momentary disturbed look flitted across his face at her painful imitation of an excited school girl, but he still had the light in his eyes. "A kiss," he said seriously. Parker stood abruptly and turned away from him.  
  
"You already know why I won't be claiming that prize, Jarod," she said, trying her best to keep her voice from trembling.  
  
"Parker, I want you to do something for me, pick a thought process and stick with it," Jarod said softly. She wasn't facing him, but she could sense his movement. He was getting off the couch and walking toward her. "Either act on your emotions, or think this through logically. Only when you mix yourself up can you decide that having me sitting here playing scrabble is better than having me in your arms. You said it yourself, you only have two options: run away with me, or avoid me completely." He put a tentative hand on her shoulder, and sighed with relief when she did not shrug it away. "You let me in the door, why can't you see that the second option is no longer viable?"  
  
"Jarod," she pleaded, her voice tremulous, "I can't just leave the Centre. I can't just pack up and ditch Daddy and Sydney, I'd even miss Broots and Debbie."  
  
"You are making excuses," he said softly, putting his hand on her other shoulder. "You know that with the exception of your father who never once did something for you without an ulterior motive, all of those people would be glad to have you out of the Centre for good. In Broots' case, it might give him the impetus he needs to get out himself."  
  
Parker knew he would find a way to logically disprove any arguments she came up with, so she didn't speak for a moment. Jarod pulled slightly on her shoulders, causing her to lean against him. She did not fight.  
  
"Do you love me," he asked gently.  
  
Parker hesitated, answering would be a mistake. No matter what answer she gave, it would either be the biggest mistake of her life, or in all probability end it. Still, he knew she did, so the truth would have to do. "Yes," she whispered, and the tension in every muscle that was touching him seeped away.  
  
He felt her relax, and until that moment, he had hardly been aware just how tense she was, just how difficult this was for her. "Then be with me," he requested simply, trying to make it all easy for her.  
  
It was a ten second eternity before she spoke again, and when she did it was still little more than a whisper. "Okay," she said softly, loving the way his hands slid down from her shoulders so that his arms could envelope her in a tight hug. "Okay," she said, a little louder, trying to get used to the idea. She was going to leave the Centre. She was going to be with Jarod.  
  
She pulled away slightly and he was terrified, she was going to leave, she was going to put up the wall he'd managed to keep down all night and she was going to walk away again. He didn't let her go, but she didn't pull far enough that he needed to. Parker turned to face him, looking up into his eyes with a slight smile and a tear threatening to fall. Jarod couldn't know what she was thinking, but she saw straight through the fear in his eyes and the tension in his arms.  
  
"Okay," she said again, almost forcefully. A kiss occurred. It was not incredible needy or passionate as one might expect between two people who obviously needed reassurance about the decision that had just been made. It was a soft kiss, the kiss of inevitable conclusion. The kiss that can only be found on movie screens and wedding alters.  
  
Chapter 4: A Sigh Is Just A Sigh As Time Goes Bye  
  
Sydney was not surprised when he received a flippant yet elegant wedding announcement a few months after Miss Parker's "mysterious" disappearance. The aging psychiatrist was surprised, however, to discover that many other people Jarod and Parker had worked with at the Centre had received notices. Sydney had never seen Mister Parker that angry. Nor had anyone seen Lyle laugh that much. For almost an hour the sounds of not-quite-hysterical glee could be heard from his office. There would be brief pauses, as though he was attempting to stop, and then he would continue.  
  
Sydney was happy for his friends, but a little disappointed when three months later he had heard nothing more from either of them. He realized before anyone else did that they'd severed ties with the Centre in those announcements, but after a few months, the hunt for the missing pretenders was placed on a backburner; Sydney continued with his twin projects, and Broots went back to generic tech work. In short, life at the Centre went back to what passed for normal.  
  
Two years passed before Mr. Parker heard from his daughter after the wedding announcement. At first, he had been livid, but as time went by, he discovered that he was mostly hurt. His daughter had effectively cut him out of her life. He blamed Jarod, he blamed himself, he blamed Catherine, he blamed his daughter and then he grew tired of blaming, and simply wished he could see his little Angel again.  
  
"Hello, Daddy," said the voice on the other end of the line as though no more than a day had elapsed since the last time they spoke.  
  
"A-Angel," he croaked out in shock.  
  
"How are you?"  
  
"I'm fine sweetie, how have you been," he asked seriously.  
  
"I couldn't be happier," she said, the fact evident in her voice. "Actually," she said, the intensity of her glee going down a watt or two, "there is one thing that could possibly make me happier. How would you like to meet your grandchildren?"  
  
"I have grandchildren," the poor man asked, utterly stunned.  
  
"Yes, you do," she replied with a laugh. "Twins, if you'll believe it, just like Lyle and me."  
  
"What, what are their names," he asked, sitting down. "Of course I want to meet them."  
  
Parker laughed, "Jarod insisted we name the boy Sydney Kyle and the girl is Sophia Catherine. Their last names change, as you can well imagine, but on their birth certificates Sophia is a Parker, which should please you."  
  
"It does," Mr. Parker replied, finding his voice. "I never thought you'd kept my name for anything. Can I really meet them? How old are they?"  
  
"They are fourteen months old and adorable. I'm calling because I want you to meet them, and I'm glad you share the sentiment. Jarod is setting up a secure way to get you here so you don't abduct my husband the second you arrive. No tricks, no plots, no lies this time, Daddy," she warned seriously. "If you think you'll try any of that, tell me now, and I'll never call you again."  
  
"No, Angel, I want to see you again. I miss you," he returned with more emotion in his voice than Parker had ever heard.  
  
"I miss you, too, Daddy. When can you get some time off to come up and see us? The amount of time you want to spend with us is entirely up to you, but you should plan on four to six hours of transit either way."  
  
"Alright, Angel, when is the soonest you can get the arrangements made? If a week isn't too long for you to put up with me, I'll have one cleared by Monday."  
  
"How do you feel about next Wednesday to the following Wednesday? That would make it a full week, and that is the earliest Sid said he could get off. I hope you don't mind him coming with," she added, suddenly uncertain. "Jarod wanted him to come up too, if you were, and I said it would be okay."  
  
"That's fine," Mr. Parker said, at this point willing to concede to pretty much any stipulations. "Wednesday it is, and I'll assume I'll be swept for any devices emitting electronic signals as well as any weaponry, so I'll leave my cell phone in the office."  
  
"Good plan, Daddy," Parker laughed merrily. It was good to hear her sounding so happy, and a paternal instinct that rarely showed itself in the old man surfaced. She was right, there would be no tricks, not because he couldn't pull them off, but because she deserved to be happy.  
  
Wednesday came, and Sydney was a little nervous, waiting at the small airfield for the private jet Jarod was sending, alone with Mr. Parker. He watched as his boss calmly submitted to the indignity of being searched and was mildly surprised when nothing objectionable was found. Sydney did not recognize the pilot, and when asked if he knew Jarod, the man simply grunted and would say nothing more. Inside the jet, the windows were all blocked firmly, but there was plenty of artificial light for the two men to read by as well as an accessible bar that was well stocked. An hour or so into the flight, Sydney got up to get himself a soft drink.  
  
"Would you like something while I'm up, Mr. Parker," he asked politely.  
  
"What, oh, no thank you, I'm fine." Mr. Parker tried to turn back to his reading, but after a few moments, he looked up at Sydney who was just returning to his seat. "Was I a bad father," he asked abruptly.  
  
Sydney was taken aback and hesitated a few moments before answering, "Your daughter was one of the most beautiful, independent and intelligent women I've come to know. She loves you, seems happy, and apparently still wants you in her life. Therefore, it is my professional opinion that you couldn't have screwed up too badly."  
  
Mr. Parker chuckled in response, but he still looked uncertain as he turned back to his reading. Psychology couldn't assuage his fears. Hopefully the look on his daughter's face when they landed would be enough to do so.  
  
An hour later, they landed, and Jarod hopped into the plane to say hello.  
  
"Jarod," the two men said in very different tones. Mr. Parker seemed to grudgingly acknowledge the man's existence while Sydney was surprised and pleased to see him.  
  
"Hello Sydney, Mr. Parker, I'm afraid it's blindfold time, just until we get into the car. You are both fairly well traveled, and I wouldn't want you to recognize the airstrip." Jarod held up two black hoods in illustration. Mr. Parker accepted his wordlessly, while Sydney laughed and complimented his protégé.  
  
They wore the hoods while driving for twenty minutes or so before Jarod said they could be removed. The stifling cloth was removed gratefully by the two men, and Mr. Parker asked how far they would be going.  
  
"We'll be driving for another two hours or so, I hope you went to the bathroom on the plane," Jarod said, smiling into the rear view mirror. Mr. Parker had to forcibly remind himself that his daughter apparently loved this science experiment freak of nature, and he forced himself to stare stoically out of the window at the hardwood forest they were driving through rather than spit a comment at the irritatingly cocky individual. Sydney was asking after Jarod's family, but Mr. Parker paid no attention to their conversation. Perhaps information on the pretender could have been gleaned, but Mr. Parker didn't really care. He was far too worried about the end of the trip to pay attention to the talk in transit.  
  
After a long drive, probably in circles, they pulled into the driveway of a beautiful cottage. The sun was just beginning to set, casting golden light on the tall leafy trees that surrounded it. Mr. Parker had never been an outdoorsy type, so his closest guess was that they were some sort of Maple, but he easily identified the tire swing and the flower garden. The house itself was two story and was either made of stone or made to look like it was made of stone. It had big windows to let the sunlight in, and it looked as though it were cut from a Martha Stewart magazine. Sitting on the grass in front of the house was a beautiful woman in a long purple sundress patterned with pale yellow flowers. She was playing with two giggling children on a blanket, and when she saw the car pull up, she pulled them both close and pointed, saying something that obviously made them laugh.  
  
Jarod was the first out of the car, striding purposefully over to Parker to kiss her gently and take one of the laughing children in his arms. Sydney got out of the car second, but he was on the far side of the car, and had to walk around the back in order to approach the smiling family. Mr. Parker got out only a second after Sydney did. He stood up to his full height and looked straight at his smiling daughter. "Hello, Angel," he said, walking over to her. He wanted to hug her, but there was a fifteen month old girl on her hip.  
  
"Daddy," she said happily, giving him a one armed hug and managing to get the point across.  
  
"And who might this little lady be," he asked politely, looking at the brown eyed little girl.  
  
"So," the child stated proudly, then giggled.  
  
"Very good, Sophie," her mother cooed. "This is your grandfather, can you say hi to Grandpa Parker?"  
  
"Hi Gumpa," the child said, shyly burying her face in her mother's sundress.  
  
"Amazing," Mr. Parker said, absolutely taken with the girl.  
  
"Well," Jarod said, breaking away from his conversation with Sydney, who seemed just as taken with Sydney Jr. "Shall we go inside, the two of you must be hungry."  
  
"Certainly, Sydney replied. Mr. Parker stooped to fold up the blanket that lay forgotten on the lawn.  
  
"Don't bother, Daddy," Miss Parker said, smiling at the old man's thoughtfulness, "I'll get it later, we might want to come out later."  
  
"Fuflys," Sophie informed her grandfather with a shy smile.  
  
At her father's confused face, Miss Parker explained, "there are hundreds of fireflies out here in the evenings. If the children aren't too tired we sometimes come out and watch them. Usually we sit on the porch swing, but sometimes we sit on the lawn and watch my oldest baby-who likes to call himself my husband-catch them for presentation to Princess Sophie." Mr. Parker laughed.  
  
"Sounds like fun," he said firmly, walking with her into the house.  
  
"Would the two of you mind watching the kids while M and I finish up dinner," Jarod asked with a knowing grin. "There are plenty of toys in the living room." The twins were set on the floor to crawl around the carpeted living room and pull out toys, supervised by two men who were very unused to crawling on their hands and knees. Sydney rolled on the floor after the children, almost as excited about all of their toys as they were while Mr. Parker sat on the sofa, watching them play, almost afraid of touching them.  
  
"Gumpa Paka," Sophie asked, crawling over to him, taking his knee, and hoisting herself up into a standing position so she could hand him the toy. "Pay," she demanded, offering him a fisher price car.  
  
"Alright then," he said, accepting the car. He tried to make it roll along the carpet, but it wouldn't. Sid Jr. giggled at him.  
  
"Onna bridge," he instructed, pointing to the plastic bridges and roads set up on the other side of the living room before he scampered over to knock down the tower Grandpa Sydney was building with his blocks.  
  
"Alright then," Mr. Parker grumbled with a smile and he crawled over to the tracks and started steering cars around them with Sophia while he made rumbling engine noises.  
  
"Dinner's ready," Parker said as she entered the room, trying not to laugh at the two well respected gentlemen rolling on the floor and playing with babies.  
  
Mr. Parker immediately stood and straightened his tie, scooping up Sophia as he did, while Sydney tackled the distracted Sid and tickled him to 'punish' him for destroying such a carefully built tower.  
  
"Sydney, only one of you is an infant," Miss Parker said with a slight smile, "so could the other one please bring the baby into the dining room for dinner?"  
  
"Gumpa Sid a hinfaint," Sid asked his mother, looking up at her with serious blue eyes. The two Parkers burst out laughing while Sydney pretended to look offended.  
  
"Yes," Miss Parker said when she managed to get her laughter under control. "Grandpa Sydney would have to be an infant to raise a big baby like your daddy."  
  
"Why do I get the feeling you're badmouthing me to the children again," Jarod asked, sneaking up behind his wife and kissing her cheek. Upon noting the death glare he received from Mr. Parker after completing this action, he released her and led everyone to the dining room.  
  
Jarod had always feared Mr. Parker. Of all the people at the Centre only Mr. Raines held a more pronounced position in the pretender's nightmares than Mr. Parker did. During dinner, Mr. Parker came close to overtaking his rival for Jarod's fear. There is a special sort of fear reserved only for men whose father-in-law does not approve of them. Jarod had suddenly discovered that fear. He noticed the man glaring at him at odd times for no apparent reason while he fed Sid or tickled his wife.  
  
After dinner, the twins were obviously sleepy, so Sydney offered to help Jarod put them to sleep while the Parkers cleared the table and started on the dishes. Mr. Parker began scrubbing the pots and pans while his daughter packed the dishwasher.  
  
"Why Jarod," he asked slowly, turning the conversation.  
  
She sighed, knowing the question had to be answered at some point in the week. "I fell in love with him when we were children," she answered honestly, "and I don't think I ever really fell out of love with him, although I managed to forget it until the Island."  
  
"Would you have stayed with the Centre if you hadn't fallen for him," he inquired.  
  
"If you remember, I wanted to leave before I realized I wanted to leave with Jarod."  
  
"Yes," he answered softly, "I remember our deal. I like to think Parkers keep their word." He paused for a moment, letting the water rinse the pot carefully, sending soap bubbles shooting down the drain. "So I guess you've been free of the Centre for two years," he stated firmly, setting the pot on the drying rack.  
  
"Daddy," she asked, looking quizzical.  
  
"You caught him, didn't you," he asked, flashing her the famous Parker smile. From the doorway there was a snort of laughter, and he turned to shoot an angry look at Jarod. The man had stolen his daughter for two years and he wasn't going to be buttered up by a giggle at a bad joke.  
  
"Come on, Daddy," his daughter said, pulling his arm gently, "Jarod and I will finish these up, let me show you to your guest room." The room was lovely and simple. Decorated with wood, quilts and rustic paintings, it was cozy without feeling fake. It was the sort of room Catherine would have set up in a vacation home, and Mr. Parker knew that his daughter was even more like her mother than originally supposed.  
  
He told her so.  
  
"Thank you, Daddy," she replied, looking away so he would not see the telltale moisture just below her eyes. After a moment of silence between the two, she turned back to him. "Well, Jarod brought your things in from the car, so if you're tired, you could turn in now or read, otherwise I was thinking we could have coffee and catch up a bit."  
  
"Coffee sounds great, Angel."  
  
The four adults met uneasily in the living room, and after coffee was served there didn't seem to be much to say.  
  
"So, Daddy, how is Lyle?"  
  
"He's fine, still working administration at the Centre, nominally heading the hunt for your husband," Mr. Parker said with a twinkle in his bright blue eyes. "He's thinking of getting married himself, actually. I don't particularly approve of his choice either. Keiko Tanaka, if you recognize the last name you'll understand my surprise."  
  
"Not Tommy's sister," Jarod asked, surprised in spite of himself.  
  
"Cousin actually, but they're as close as siblings," Mr. Parker replied rolling his eyes. "I met her about a month ago, pretty, but hardly brilliant. Speaks only Japanese, which I don't hold against her, but her attempts at English gave me a headache all through dinner. I would have been perfectly happy to stick to her language."  
  
"I'm sure she was just attempting to make you more comfortable, Mr. Parker," Sydney said with his patented half smile.  
  
"I still can't picture Lyle engaged to anyone," Parker said with a self conscious laugh.  
  
"Yeah, well a few years ago most people would have said the same thing about you," Jarod said, placing his hand on hers, then removing it when he saw his father in law.  
  
Parker looked at her husband quizzically before shaking her head, "I was a lot of things, but not a psychopath. Remember his 'bride'."  
  
"Now Angel," Mr. Parker cut in, a strict look crossing his face, "your brother had his problems, but he's changed. Despite what you may think of him, he is your brother and you shouldn't gossip about him."  
  
"Yes, Daddy," she sighed, resigned to the fact that her family would never have normal gossip.  
  
"So, Sydney, how are Broots and Debbie," Jarod asked, carefully changing the subject before he started a fight by saying what he really thought of Lyle.  
  
"They miss you, of course, but they are both happy. Now that the search for Jarod is on the back burner, Broots has gone back to regular technical work. He seems to be happy that he no longer has to sneak around late at night and have his life threatened, but I know he misses both of you."  
  
"Yeah well I miss the big geek sometimes too, just don't tell him that," Parker grumbled.  
  
"Debbie is doing well in school, I gather, she is in advanced math classes, but she seems to have copied your taste in clothing, much to her father's dismay," Sydney chuckled.  
  
"He is a bit protective of her, isn't he," Jarod grinned.  
  
"A father's right," Mr. Parker defended staunchly. "When Sophia is that age you'll understand perfectly."  
  
"I can imagine," Jarod said, his smile not dimming in the slightest.  
  
"I thought we called it pretending," Sydney teased, taking a sip of his coffee.  
  
Everyone laughed easily, and the conversation carried on more comfortably into the night. There were points of contention, but they were avoided. There were no questions about the past or the future, only about the weather and everyone's health.  
  
Sydney woke late the next morning, although it was really only about nine thirty. Upon entering the kitchen he found Jarod flipping pancakes and was informed that he was just in time for the second batch, as the children and Parker had already eaten. Mr. Parker entered the kitchen a few minutes later to be greeted in just the same fashion, and Sydney's jaw almost dropped. It was the first time he'd ever seen his boss in anything other than a business suit. Although the black pants and nice dark blue sweater were not exactly casual, they were definitely the loosest clothes Sydney had ever expected Mr. Parker to appear in.  
  
After a leisurely breakfast, the adults joined Parker and the twins outside. The children seemed to be taking turns using their mother to stand up, standing by themselves, and knocking their sibling over when said sibling succeeded in standing alone.  
  
"Do they do that often," Mr. Parker asked with a chuckle.  
  
"While they don't take sibling rivalry quite to their mother and her twin's level, they do like to wrestle," Jarod replied, smirking.  
  
"It's normal enough," Sydney added with a laugh. "They don't seem to have nearly as much animosity in their competitions as their mother and her brother."  
  
"They are also not yet two years old," Mr. Parker said, feeling defensive although the laugh had not left his lips.  
  
The day was spent playing with the children, walking in the forest, listening to music, and after dinner there were many fireflies that needed to be caught an appreciated. Jarod did most of the catching, although his wife helped, much to her father's amusement.  
  
"It is time to put these ones to bed," Parker commented with a fond smile, waving at her two sleeping children before she scooped one into her arms. "Are you lot coming?"  
  
"I think I'll stay out here for a moment," Mr. Parker replied, still watching the fireflies dance hypnotically about the lawn. The others entered the house, leaving the old gentleman alone with his thoughts. Ten minutes later, Jarod cleared his throat, announcing the fact that he was still there.  
  
"Oh, Jarod, I thought you'd gone inside," the old man said, first shocked then glaring at the pretender.  
  
"Thought I'd stay out here and keep you company," the younger man stated amicably, sitting on the porch swing next to his father in law. "It is a beautiful night."  
  
Mr. Parker made an affirming statement, and they fell into silence for a time, both watching the lawn. Just when it seemed impossible that either would speak, Mr. Parker whispered the question that pestered him since his daughter's two year late phone call. "Why am I here," he asked softly.  
  
Jarod could think of seventy four witty answers to that question, but for the sake of any sort of familial relationship with the older man, he did not say any of them. The question suddenly reminded him of what he'd forgotten since Mr. Parker's arrival: Jarod was the good guy.  
  
"You are here because, in spite of everything you've done to her, your daughter loves you and wants you to be part of her life. You are here because in spite of the fact that you were the man who stole my life, cutting you out of my children's life would deny them one of the many relationships I was never given a chance at having. You are here because you can make Parker happy, and I'm willing to put up with anyone who will make Parker happy."  
  
Mr. Parker stared silently at the softly glowing fireflies weaving around the lawn for a long moment before answering in a soft voice. "I never wanted my little girl to grow up, but one day she did, and she was exactly like her mother in every way. I'm not excusing my actions where she is concerned, but I always thought that if I sent her away enough, one day she'd stop coming back as Catherine and be my little angel again. She was never supposed to get married, but I suppose if she had to, she could have chosen a worse husband." The man then rose silently and entered the house, leaving Jarod in stunned silence.  
  
A year later, a thorough psychological profile written by Dr. Greene proved that so many years outside of the Centre and the effects of rearing children would severely affect Jarod's future simulation, and the hunt for him was officially cancelled. The children, the product of two red files, were strongly desired, but the Chairman tried to extend the same protection that he'd given his daughter. The Triumvirate was rather insistent, so the children were abducted shortly thereafter and brought to the Centre for testing. They both had the pretender gene, but their IQs, while high, were disappointing for children of their particular lineage and they were returned to their parents.  
  
Sydney once asked Mr. Parker, in a moment of bravery, why he went to so much trouble to protect a lab rat and the children who could have revitalized the pretender project. For on sentimental minute, Mr. Parker allowed a soft smile to grace his features.  
  
"Because he made my daughter happy, and I'm willing to put up with anyone who will make my Angel happy." 


End file.
